


More

by IroncladValkyrie



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IroncladValkyrie/pseuds/IroncladValkyrie
Summary: To say that he had merely been a power-hungry manipulator would have been inaccurate.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shoriani](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shoriani).



The leader of Section XIII had demonstrated an insatiable hankering for power from the moment he had set foot in the orphanage. However, to say that he had merely been a power-hungry manipulator would have been inaccurate. Enrico Maxwell did not just crave power; he craved it all. He had been born with nothing, so he now wanted everything. He saw the other children and wondered how they could possibly be content with their current situation when there was so much to accomplish. He laid awake at night while everyone else was fast asleep, his arm outstretched and hand grabbing onto nothing. As the moonlight fell between his pale fingers, he mused, once more, that he must have been born for something more than this. 

 

Being ordained a priest had not been enough. He believed that becoming the Chief of Iscariot would be, yet his attention had moved on to something else to achieve.  _ Someone  _ else.

He had gotten an admission from his Mentor, but his words -that it was not a sin unless they acted upon it- meant little to him because mind and body screamed  _ more, more, more _ . Push that fine line further and further away, until it blurred and there was nothing separating them from each other. Sins of the flesh were a distant concept when you do not know where you end and he begins, or where soul sunders from body.

 

When the Paladin finally slept by his side and Enrico’s outstretched hand touched his warm, bare skin instead of air, he was again awake, wondering why his contentment was poisoned by restlessness.  Nothing would quench that thirst, that desperation. And so he dove into a new quest, a new conquest, never neglecting whom he had already possessed. Nights of tryst followed by days of planning. There was nothing saint in either one, but had he not been taught that they were damned no matter the outcome? So he might as well strive for grandiosity. For himself, for all of them.

 

It had all crumbled, pieces of glass shattering around him just like his plans, and his hand once again tried to grab onto the sky. He did not get anything in his grasp, neither power nor the one who had comforted him night after night. Death was nothingness, and he sunk into it leaving his mortal coil behind in the arms of the same man he had coveted for years.

 

Perhaps that void was all he had always needed, but it did not last. It could have been seconds, hours, years, but he woke up again in pure darkness.

 

A slithering torn moved across his cheek, both caressing and breaking the skin in its wake.

That recognizable voice spoke, sounding as if it originated from deeper into the abyss that he himself must have been. “What is it that you wish for, Enrico?”

He smiled weakly and sighed without any air, for there was none. “I wish for nothing more than this, Father.”


End file.
